None the Wiser
by Zana Zira
Summary: S4, post "Monster Movie": Sam notices something off with Dean after the end of Oktoberfest. He seems to be in pain almost constantly, and Sam thinks it may be something to do with one of his teeth, but of course Dean isn't offering up any useful information. But Dean's a Winchester, and things like this always seem to come to light at the worst possible time. Sick!Dean, Caring!Sam


**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I still do not own any of these guys.**

**A/N: I must warn you, I'm fairly mean to Dean in this fic. The plotbunny absolutely would not leave me alone until I bullied him a lot, so... Here we go. ;)**

* * *

It wasn't long after the strange finale of the case of the monster-movie-obsessed shapeshifter that Sam noticed something off about Dean. He wasn't sure what, at first, only that his older brother seemed a little more subdued somehow. Sam knew neither of them had been injured recently, and Dean should've had no new reasons to be depressed. In fact, since he'd declared himself "rehymenated" – and Sam _really_ hated that word – he'd seemed happier than ever, chasing girls and consuming burgers and beer like he was making up for lost time.

But still, something about Dean was different recently, and only within the last few days. Oktoberfest had just concluded that morning, so Dean and Sam were once again in the Impala, driving around from one town to another in search of any potential supernatural disturbances. They had just stopped at a diner, which claimed to have some of the best burgers around, so of course that had been where Dean wanted to go. But when they got their orders, Dean ate with much less gusto than usual, actually chewing his food carefully instead of inhaling it and doing so with a strangely pained look on his face.

"Dean?" Sam asked when his brother bit into a potato chip and winced slightly. "Something wrong?"

"Nothin', Sammy. Just stabbed myself in the gums a little, that's all. Friggin' chips." He pushed the order of potato chips over to Sam, who ate them without complaint but kept a close eye on Dean throughout the rest of the meal. He wasn't an idiot, and he would've had to be completely blind not to see the way his brother was suddenly chewing only on his left side, carefully not putting pressure on the right. One of his teeth must really have been bothering him. But Sam didn't say anything, remembering that the shapeshifter could have hit him in the mouth while Sam wasn't there. So for the time being, he resolved to just keep an eye on it and let it go.

For the next several weeks, Sam continued to let it go.

He let it go when Dean took a bite of steak and almost spat it back out, grimacing and swallowing the barely-chewed piece with difficulty before pushing his plate away with disgust. "Hard as a rock," he complained, sticking to his mashed potatoes instead. Funny, since Sam's was even less rare than Dean's and was the most tender steak he'd eaten in months.

He let it go when Dean started to eat an ice cream cone and then "accidentally" dropped it on the ground a second later. "Nah, you eat yours, Sam, I'm good," he said when Sam offered to get another bowl and split his ice cream between them. _Uh-huh, and when had Dean suddenly stopped wanting to steal food from him at every possible opportunity?_

He let it go when the milkshakes and desserts stopped being ordered so often at the diners, when Dean started drinking his coffee cold and his water lukewarm, when breakfast started consisting of things like oatmeal, cream of wheat, and grits – cooled for a while, of course – and when even pie was too sweet for his brother to want to eat anymore _("Gotta watch the figure, Sammy."_)

He let it go, and he watched his brother become less and less able to hide his discomfort, often grimacing and wincing whenever he ate anything that was warmer or colder than room temperature and harder than mush. Sometimes he even groaned a little, when he thought Sam couldn't hear him. He started developing near-constant headaches, too, and the younger Winchester was almost ready to drag him into the dentist's office by force when he found Dean leaned over the sink in the kitchenette one day, palm slapping on the edge of the counter as he growled in pain. When he saw Sam, though, he immediately smiled, giving him some crap story about killing a spider. _Yeah, sure you were, Dean._

The final straw, though, came on November first. Halloween candy had just gone on sale that day, and since Dean had never gotten to eat any on Halloween – thanks _ever so much_ for that, Samhain – the older Winchester had gone out and bought several bags of everything from gummy worms to chocolate to jelly beans. Apparently he wanted to stock them with enough sugar to last until next Halloween. Or, in Dean's case, perhaps eat it all at once so he could be sick for days afterward. Sam really hoped not. Nursing Dean through a days-long, candy-induced bellyache was definitely not at the top of his to-do list right now, especially after how badly last night's battle had turned out for both of them.

Currently, Sam was sitting at the rickety table in their motel room, typing on his laptop while he searched for any possible hunts in the area. Dean was in the kitchenette, preparing to dive into a freshly opened bag of chocolate with a ravenous gleam in his eye. He unwrapped a king-sized Hershey's bar, breaking off a milk chocolate square and popping it into his mouth, and then the sugary treat must have hit a sore spot wrong because Sam suddenly heard him give a sharp gasp that cut off way too abruptly. His head shot up immediately, and he was across the room and at Dean's side before the older Winchester even had time to look over at him.

"Dean?" he asked, studying his brother's face. Dean's wide, frightened eyes flicked over to Sam, one hand drifting up to clutch at his throat as he gave a couple of weak, ineffective attempts at coughing. With an almost frightening efficiency he'd gained thanks to way too much practice at the Mystery Spot last year, Sam pushed on Dean's shoulders to get him to bend forward, supporting his chest with one hand and giving him several hard thumps between the shoulder blades with the heel of his other hand.

"Come on, come on…" Sam muttered, pounding his back harder and feeling his own heart racing as he feared it wouldn't work. It took a few tries, and Sam was just preparing himself to get behind Dean and start the Heimlich maneuver when his brother finally coughed and sucked in some air, the partly-melted square of chocolate falling from his lips and onto the kitchen tile. Sam sighed in relief, the sharp hits on Dean's back turning into gentle rubs when he was thrown into a coughing fit.

"Th… thanks…" Dean croaked between coughs, letting Sam help him sit down at the kitchen table and still wheezing slightly as his body slowly realized it was able to breathe again. Sam handed him a glass of water, watching him try to take a sip and then yelp, almost dropping the glass and clutching his jaw with his free hand while he clenched his eyes shut. When Sam put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched, drawing back as if expecting his little brother to make it hurt worse.

"Alright, easy, just let me take a look," Sam said gently, prying Dean's hand away and motioning for him to open his mouth wide. If one of his teeth was hurting enough to cause him to choke when he tried to eat, it definitely deserved to be looked at. Sam reached over and picked up a small flashlight he had set on the table for late-night reading, and Dean flinched again and pulled back. "What's wrong?"

"Don't… don't touch it," Dean said softly, the tips of his ears darkening with embarrassment at having to admit how much pain he was actually in.

The younger Winchester nodded in complete understanding, not even teasing Dean when he opened his mouth again and let Sam tip his head back to get a better look. He hissed in a sympathetic breath when he saw how red the back edge of Dean's gums were; they looked infected, or very close to it, and it was clear that the tooth at the farthest back edge on the bottom right had a pretty severe cavity. That, on top of the fact that it had obviously been chomping down on the inside of Dean's cheek every time he chewed and left it raw, was enough to make Sam shudder with sympathy pain.

He shut off the flashlight, letting Dean put his hand back on his throbbing jaw and fixing his older brother with a no-nonsense stare. "Yeah, so, dentist. Now."

* * *

Dean hadn't fought him when Sam had found a nearby oral surgeon and dragged him down there. That indicated he was in nearly unbearable pain, because the older Winchester hated dentists with a burning passion. It was why he always took such good care of his teeth; besides looking nice for the girls, it kept him out of the dentist's chair.

Now, though, he sat quietly with his white-knuckled hands gripping the armrests of the chair, letting the man – Dr. Reave, his nametag read – poke and prod around in his mouth as he looked for the source of all the agonizing pain. Sam sat in a chair on the other side of the room, wincing every time Dean hissed in a pained gasp and tensed, trying not to flinch with pointy metal objects still in his mouth. Finally, the chair was raised and Dean was allowed to close his mouth, which he did with a sigh of relief and a return of his hand to the side of his jaw.

"So what's the verdict?" he asked as the dentist threw his used gloves away and looked at the X-rays he had taken of Dean's teeth.

"Well, Mr. Murdoch, it looks like your wisdom teeth need to be removed – and quickly. Two are growing completely horizontally, so they aren't visible yet except on the X-ray. The other two, the ones on your right side, are growing in but doing so at an angle, which is what's causing you so much pain. There isn't room for them, and cavities have formed where they are still partially buried in the gums."

"My wisdom teeth? Seriously?" Dean shot Sam a look. He'd had his wisdom teeth out already, when he was sixteen. Just like Sam had at seventeen. So how could… "Aw, crap." A moment later, Sam's expression showed that he'd figured it out too. Apparently being completely rebuilt meant Dean was now factory-new again, appendix, tonsils, and wisdom teeth included. Being rehymenated was really starting to suck.

"Definitely 'aw, crap,'" Dr. Reave responded, thinking Dean was referring to what he'd just said. "We can actually get you in today, if you like. I would recommend it. You've already got a fairly severe infection starting up, and it isn't going to get any better until those teeth are gone. I actually can't believe you went this long in life without them giving you trouble."

Dean sighed, his breath shaky as he realized he was about to be in for a world of pain no matter what he chose.

"Sure. Sign me up, I guess."

* * *

Dean was a mess by the time the surgery was done. Apparently his teeth were not very cooperative in coming out, and the doctor warned Sam that his incisions would bleed longer and cause him a lot more pain than average for the first couple of days. Sam was going to get his prescriptions filled as soon as he had Dean settled, not wanting him to have to suffer any longer than necessary.

Dean had woken up feeling sick after the anesthesia wore off, not actually puking but getting very close several times, and he was as wobbly as a newborn colt as Sam guided him out to the Impala with Dean's arm thrown across his shoulders and an arm held around his waist. When they finally got him settled in the car, no thanks to Dean's failed attempts at "helping," he didn't stop talking the entire way, muttering around the gauze in his mouth in gibberish Sam couldn't understand at all.

"S'mmy," he mumbled, poking at his swollen cheeks with wide eyes. "Ah can' feew mah faith."

"You're not supposed to be able to feel your face, Dean," Sam said patiently, keeping his eyes on the road and trying not to laugh. "It would hurt like hell if you could."

"Ohhh," Dean said, as if Sam had just revealed some great profound truth to him. "Buh… Wiw I evah be ab'e to feew i' agin?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam said, not completely suppressing his chuckle this time. "You'll be able to feel it again in a couple of hours. Now stop talking or you'll make the incisions bleed more."

"Mmkay."

Sam was relieved when they finally got back to the motel, because Dean immediately flopped down onto the bed, spitting the old gauze into the trashcan by the bed and letting Sam fold up two new ones for him to stick in his mouth. Then he curled up on his side and fell asleep again, mouth open and swollen cheeks looking even bigger because of the gauze pads puffing them up like a chipmunk's.

Sam took the opportunity to run to the nearby pharmacy and pick up the antibiotics and pain meds for Dean, as well as some soft foods like yogurt, ice cream, and some mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese that he could cook when Dean felt up to eating something hot. Dean woke briefly when Sam came back, and he was just starting to get sore, so Sam gave him one of the pain pills. He tried to offer his brother something to eat, but the greenish tinge that immediately crept into Dean's skin was enough to tell him that wasn't happening now. Once Dean was asleep again, Sam pulled out his laptop, content to just research for the rest of the night and check on Dean as necessary.

So when the phone suddenly started buzzing on the table next to him, Sam almost jumped out of his chair, silencing it before it woke Dean and reading the caller-ID nervously: Ruby. He gulped and stepped into the bathroom, flipping it open before answering it quietly.

"Ruby?"

"Sam. I'm in the area tonight. How about you come meet me for a little one-on-one training? It's been a while."

"Ruby, I can't… Dean is… He needs me here."

Ruby snorted. "Sure he does. Look, just come out for an hour or two. Whatever Dean's got going on, it can wait. Or not, that's up to you."

The call disconnected then, and Sam sighed, flipping his phone shut and putting it in his pocket. He really should stay here, but he was getting low on demon blood again, and the flask of it he kept with him was almost empty. He ought to take this opportunity while he could…

With a sigh, Sam grabbed his jacket and the Impala's keys, shutting the motel room door quietly and locking it behind him. Dean would be fine on his own for a couple of hours.

* * *

Dean wasn't sure what awoke him at first, since he'd been sleeping on and off all day. For a second, he stared blearily up at the dark ceiling of the room, watching a beam of light trail across it as a car passed by outside. Then a wave of pain slammed into him, making him remember the fact that he had just had four teeth cut out of his friggin' jaw, and he needed pain meds like _yesterday_.

"Sam?" he called softly, trying to sit up but feeling weak and unsteady when he did. Probably something to do with not having anything to eat all day coupled with the anesthesia; he never had handled that well, and it always tended to hang on longer with him than other people.

"S'mmy?" he tried again when no answer was forthcoming. "Ow!" he grunted, bringing his hands up to his swollen cheeks and massaging them gently, trying to ease some of the agonizing throbbing that seemed to be building in intensity with every second. He slowly looked around, trying to see where the pills might be when it became obvious that his brother wasn't going to bring him any. His groggy mind didn't even question why that might be – all he registered right now was pain.

"Ah, shit… Oh, God…" he moaned, laying his head on the pillow and whimpering softly when even that much talking hurt him terribly. This hurt worse than being shot; he thought getting his wisdom teeth out was supposed to _help_ him, not make things worse.

Out of other options and still too out of it to help himself, Dean just lay there, hands ineffectively rubbing his cheeks and unshed tears of pain pooling in his eyes as he waited for Sammy to come back.

* * *

Sam's hands were trembling as he placed the room key in the lock and stepped into their motel room. Ruby had kept him longer than he had thought, and he had been gone almost four hours by now. Dean was probably due for some pain pills too, and he wanted to make sure he ate something with them this time around if his stomach could handle it. Sam just hoped he could hand Dean the spoon without dropping it; he had had a little too much blood this time, and it would be a few hours before he stopped feeling so jumpy.

He had just stepped into the room and re-locked the door when he noticed something was wrong. It was quiet, just a tiny sound that most people wouldn't have noticed, but to Sam it might as well have been a scream. From the bed on the other side of the room, Dean was breathing in irregular pants of pain, almost sobbing as he tried not to vocalize what must have been agony for him to be making a sound at all. Sam felt his already accelerated heart rate jump higher when Dean whimpered, actually whimpered, and he was over at his brother's side in a heartbeat, flicking on the lamp beside the bed so he could see what was wrong.

"Oh, Dean…" he said softly, immediately realizing what a terrible person he was to have left his brother alone when he saw the state that Dean was in. The older Winchester was curled into a ball under the blankets, moaning quietly to himself as he rubbed at his puffy red cheeks. Tear-tracks ran down his face and onto the pillow, and more unshed tears hung ready to fall from his glazed eyes. His mouth hung open in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his swollen jaw, and pinkish drool trickled out, meaning he must have removed the gauze earlier and not been able to find more.

And suddenly Sam realized he'd taken his duffel bag with him when he left for Ruby's, and Dean's meds and extra gauze had gone along with him. Even if he'd wanted to, Dean had no way to find any relief. Sam thought he was going to be sick – especially when Dean finally noticed him standing there and turned his pain-filled gaze on Sam, silently begging for some kind of end to the agony his little brother had insisted he endure.

"S'mmy… Hur'ss…" he whispered, moaning and biting back a sob when those two words set his mouth on fire again.

"I know, Dean, I know. I'm so sorry," Sam said quietly, hurriedly locating the pills in his bag and running to fetch Dean a glass of water to take them with. He helped Dean sit up, pushing the pills against his lips until he swallowed them and then holding the glass for him so he could drink.

It didn't work immediately, though, and Sam jumped up to try to find something to ease at least a little of his discomfort until they did. He hurriedly soaked some hand towels in water and tossed them in the microwave, heating them until they were hot but not scorching and then placing them on either side of Dean's face to help some of the swelling. Dean sighed in obvious relief, but to Sam's surprise he turned his back on him, seemingly trying to hide his pain from his little brother even though it was way too late for that.

Smiling at the irony of it all, Sam settled down on the bed beside him, lying behind Dean and starting to rub his back with one enormous hand. When it seemed to help a little, he kept it up, continuing the soothing motion until Dean's uneven pants of pain evened out and he started to drift off to sleep.

"Thanks, S'mmy…" he mumbled sleepily, subconsciously curling up closer to the source of warmth that was his gigantic little brother.

Sam smiled in spite of himself, feeling that in some way he was making amends right now as Dean slowly relaxed until he was snoring softly, pressed close against Sam for comfort as his body started working to recover from the ordeal it had been through that day.

"Any time," Sam whispered quietly, taking his phone out of his pocket and turning it off before chucking it across the room to land on a pile of dirty clothes. "Any time."


End file.
